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Carson

I was alone in the small room. I walked to the corner and stood the tiny Dixie cup upright. It had fallen over with my last throw. I moved back to my chair and sat down and aimed again.

"He shoots! He scores!" I said quietly as my dime plunked straight into the small cup.

I retrieved the dime and shot a couple more times, making each shot easily. I was bored. I stood looking at the closed door for a few seconds, and finally walked over to it and turned the doorknob.

Someone was usually in here with me, but today there wasn't anyone. They hadn't had anyone extra to "babysit" me. I rolled my eyes. I was hardly a baby. I was eight years old. The man of the house.

I knew what my mom was doing and it made me sick. It made my stomach turn to know that she was under the covers with some man, na**d, while they made a movie. She called herself an actress, but I had heard other people, people who whispered behind my back, call her a whore. I knew what a whore was, of course. I knew it meant that she screwed people for money. And I knew it was true. Every time I asked her to stop doing the job she was doing, she would yell at me and ask me how else I expected to eat.

I guessed it would also mean that she had to stop taking the pills and sleeping for most of the day.

I snuck around the corner and heard the music coming from the front room. I also heard grunts and other strange noises. I knew they were sex sounds, and that I should go back to the room they had told me to stay in. But for some reason, my legs kept moving forward.

I peeked my head around the corner and my eyes grew big, and I put my hand over my mouth to keep myself from yelling out. My mom was in the center of a bed and there were three men around her, all na**d. One was behind her, slapping his privates into her and she had another man's penis in her mouth. The man to her right was yanking on himself and as I watched, he grunted and streams of white pee went all over her hair and face.

I wanted to run over to her and push them off of her. I wanted to kick them all in the face and stomp on them. A protectiveness for my mom rose up in me and I choked out a small sound, tears springing into my eyes.

I ran toward her and suddenly, she was on the bed on her back and I was over her choking out, "Mom! Mom!" She was beaten and half dead, blood running out of every orifice. She looked up at me through cracked, swollen lids and… smiled. The sweetest smile I had ever seen. As she smiled, her face transformed, her features growing younger and prettier. "Ara," I breathed out.

I shot up in bed, panting. My phone was ringing.

"Hello," I said, my voice groggy, even to my own ears.

It was Leland. "Hey Carson, Josh's bail was just set. Two million."

I closed my eyes for a beat. "Can we cover it?"

"We? No. Trilogy? Yes. I'm on my way to the bank now. I just wanted to let you know."

"Okay, keep me posted."

"Will do."

I hung up and collapsed back on my pillow, glancing at the clock quickly. I had slept in after working late the night before, and then tossing and turning most of the night once I finally fell into bed. I stared up at the ceiling. That f**king dream. I'd had it before but not for a couple months now. I wondered if it was because Grace was back in my life–sort of. Shit, I'd messed up with her. I was having a hard time feeling too sorry about it because seeing her come again was f**king fantastic, but I had scared her off. Kissing her in my truck the night before had just gotten me all crazy possessive, and f**king horny. Let's call a spade a spade. And so when she had burst into my office, talking about him again, I had taken charge of her in a way that I knew she'd probably respond to–and she had. And she'd asked me not to stop. But the f**k of it was, she probably regretted it. And that made me feel like shit.

I had found out that she had never slept with her fiancé. The f**king glee that had soared through my body with that knowledge was off the charts. But why hadn't she? That was the question. We needed to talk. And the sooner, the better.

Grace lived in her head a lot, and she was hard on herself. I had known that about her an hour after meeting her four and a half years ago. And so now she was walking around convincing herself that she was a bad person who had done something immoral to her fiancé, which, wasn't entirely untrue. But that wasn't going to help me out. She was going to feel guilty now, and guilt didn't bode well for her telling him to take a hike like I had asked her to. I needed to fix things. I wanted her. Plain and simple. I had told her that I was pushing a lot of shit aside to give the two of us a shot. That was true, but it wasn't… I couldn't push a lot of the shit I had going on aside, and some of it, I'd be asking her to push aside, or at least accept. Shit, this was complicated. If she'd just tell me she wanted what I wanted, we could try to work through it together. But before that, I couldn’t risk it. It just wasn't possible. Yeah, we needed to talk.

I swung my legs out of bed and headed toward the shower.

CHAPTER 26

Grace

I brought my legs up under me and pulled the blanket around my shoulders, leaning back on my couch. I had just gotten home from the office, after a twelve hour day, pulled on my p.j.'s, turned on the TV, and pulled a blanket around myself. It was eight o'clock and I hadn't eaten dinner yet, and I was starving. But a few minutes of couch time felt like the priority.

Of course, the first person that came to my mind was Carson. I had somewhat successfully kept the thoughts of him at bay yesterday after I had run out of his office, and then today as well. Part of it was self-preservation, but I knew part of it was the mind-blowing orgasm I had had on his leg up against the wall. I groaned in embarrassment and brought my hands up to my cheeks, feeling the heat in my system rise just at the memory alone. God, I had told him I couldn't see him again and then humped his leg like some horny, little yap dog. Mixed message much? It was beyond humiliating.

I was a professional. I showed up at work every day in conservative suits and sensible shoes. In court, I was efficient and confident. In my personal life, I paid my bills on time, called my dad at least once a week, and was a good friend and an honest person. But enter Carson Stinger and suddenly I was a crazed, basket case. A nutjob. A lying, deceiving nutjob who let him manhandle me against his office wall. And he hadn't even had to work very hard to get me there. I had practically begged him. I was embarrassed and ashamed of myself.

But the overwhelming emotion I was feeling was sadness. I had betrayed Alex. I was a terrible person. And worse, I had told Carson that I hadn't slept with Alex. I shouldn't have told him that. Not only was it none of his business, but it was going to give him the wrong idea. It wasn't that I wasn't attracted to Alex–it was just that everything had gone so quickly with us, we had started dating practically the day I moved to Vegas, gotten engaged after just a couple months and were talking about getting married as soon as this Spring. We had done other stuff, of course, I just wanted to wait until we were married to have sex. I hadn't even told Abby we were waiting, because I knew she'd give me flack. And okay, maybe it was a little old-fashioned, but why not? I thought it was romantic. And Alex, being the gentleman that he was, was okay with that. I thought the anticipation added some spice. I thought–

I was startled out of my thoughts by a loud, pounding knock on my door. I furrowed my brow. Who the heck knocked like that?

I got up, leaving the blanket behind me on the couch, walking to the door in my cotton p.j. pants and white tank top.

I didn't have a peephole on my door so I called, "Who is it?"

"It's me, Grace," I heard a deep voice say. Crap! Carson.

I stood on the other side of the door biting my thumbnail for a minute, thinking about what I should do.

"Grace, open the door," he finally said from the other side. "Please," he added after a couple seconds.

I sighed and pulled the door open, the cool, December night air hitting me.

Carson stood there in all his masculine perfection, wearing a pair of dark jeans and a leather jacket. He was so damn good-looking, I hated it. I really did. It would be a lot easier to dismiss him if he was a fugly troll. Life was cruel that way.

Carson's eyes moved down my body and stopped at my chest. I realized I wasn't wearing a bra and that I was sure the cold had made my ni**les harden. I crossed my arms.

"What do you want, Carson?" I asked. I was tired.

"Can I come in? I just want to talk for a minute and then I'll leave." He looked at me beseechingly.

I paused but stepped back, letting him in. I supposed we did need to put this to rest, since I hadn't exactly done a very good job the day before.

He walked past me and then stood waiting as I closed the door. I didn't lock it though. He'd be leaving soon.

I walked past him and parked myself back on the couch, bringing the blanket back up around me. He followed me in and sat on the opposite side of the couch, leaning forward, his forearms resting on his thighs.

"Josh Garner made bail this morning," he said. "I guess you know that."

"Yes," I said back. "A bail bondsman posted it." I frowned. The bail was too much for a bondsman. I thought someone else had to have posted it. I didn't know who. But I wasn't going to talk to Carson about that now. If he'd even know.

He nodded, looking at me, but not saying a word. It looked like he was struggling with whether to say something. Finally, he shook his head slightly and looked away. When he looked back, he said, "We should talk about yesterday morning. I owe you an apology."

I let out a breath. "Carson…" I leaned back, bringing my hands up over my face. I ran them back through my hair and looked over at him. He was staring at me intently.

I laughed slightly and shook my head.

"What?" he asked.

"You don't owe me an apology. I let you do what you… did. I wanted what you did." I looked away. "That was probably obvious." I felt my cheeks heat.

"But," I went on, "it wasn't right. On my part. Not on yours. You're not the one who made promises to someone and broke them." With my words, sadness washed through me. I was a terrible person.

He was silent for a second, his forehead creased, seeming to be working out a puzzle.

"What I was trying to say with my apology," he said softly, "is that I'm sorry for coming on so strong." He paused, squinting very slightly as if he wasn't exactly sure if he really was sorry for that. After a couple seconds he went on, "But I meant every word I said. Every word. No games on my part."

I shook my head slowly. "Carson, you had just been messing around with a cocktail waitress in your office before I walked in!" I yelled out.

He jolted slightly and then looked at me for a beat before he burst out laughing.

"I wasn't doing anything with Kira. Yeah, she throws herself at me every day of the week, but I've never touched her." He paused studying me for a second. "You didn't realize that after what we did?" he asked, pursing his lips.

"How would I know that?" I shot back. "I barely know you."

"You know me better than anyone, Buttercup," he clipped out, his eyes flaring. And then more gently, "And I know you better than anyone. Even after all this time."

My mouth fell open. "Well, that's presumptuous. I think my fiancé knows me better than anyone."

As he stared at me, I saw a small tick in his jaw. "Really Grace?" he raised an eyebrow.

I narrowed my eyes. I knew exactly what he was referring to. "I should have never told you that. It's none of your business and I refuse to speak about it with you again. Look at us! We can't even spend three minutes together without fighting or kissing!"

He laughed. "Is that such a bad thing?" he asked.

I narrowed my eyes at him, but didn't say anything. "Yes! Yes it is. I need to focus… I need to… stop cheating on my fiancé!" I blurted out.

Carson's face went completely serious. "You're not in love with him, Grace. I don't want you to cheat on your fiancé either. Break it off." He looked into my eyes. "Please."

I stared at him, emotions rushing through my body too quickly and too numerous to investigate.

A light knock sounded. I jumped slightly and Carson's eyes flew to the door. "Expecting someone?" he asked.

"Oh my God, Alex said he might come by with dinner. I thought it had gotten too late. That's probably him," I hissed out.

Carson stood up and I jumped up next to him. "Break it off with him, Grace," he said, starting to go toward the door.

"Wait!" I whispered. "You can't open that door!"

He turned and walked back to me in just a couple steps, taking my face in his hands. His expression was tight. "I haven't been with anyone else either," he said, his eyes studying my face. "Not since you." My eyes widened and my mouth dropped open. "What?" I laughed out nervously. I was caught off guard, shocked. How could that possibly be true? In almost five years, Carson Stinger, sex-on-a-stick, man-whore, sex-God hadn't been with anyone else? I opened my mouth to speak and then snapped it closed. He continued to study my face, and I continued to study his. Finally, I breathed out, "Why?"

He opened his mouth to speak when a second knock sounded, this time louder.

"This won't look good. Please, you need to go out the back door, Carson," I whispered. "Can you do it quietly?"

He kept looking at me for a few beats and then his face broke into a slow grin, that magical dimple doing its worst. God, he was… breathtaking. My heart sped up at the sheer beauty of him. "I might have some expertise in stealthy getaways, Buttercup," he said, letting go of my face and moving toward the sliding glass door that led to the small patio at the back of my house.